


More than a brother

by Rajatarangini



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, s13e21: beat the devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rajatarangini/pseuds/Rajatarangini
Summary: It is only now, when Sam has come back from the dead, that Mary finds out that her sons are more than just brothers to each other.(Mary POV)





	More than a brother

It’s only the three of them now.

The rift that opened up between the two worlds is gone, Lucifer is here to claim his son, the Michael of the apocalypse world could be here any moment now that Lucifer has killed and drained his angels of their grace. They have to find a way out of it all – beating Michael, finding the ingredients required to open up the rift again and take them all back to their own world… But for now, Mary is happy… even content. After all, she is finally with her boys – bloody and hurt and shaken, but they’re here, with her… in danger here, yes (what wouldn’t she give to have them all back home in their own world… Jack too!). But they’re together now, and she knows they’ll find a way out of it all.

The others seem to have realised that the Winchesters need some space, and so they’ve left them alone in one of the tents in the camp. Castiel and the other angel she’s never met before, Gabriel… they’re with Lucifer and Jack… the Devil is sort of _cooperating_ with them, because he wants to get his son and himself back to their own world, away from Michael and his angels.

Not that any of that seems to matter to her boys right now. Dean looks shaken still, pale and white. When she looks closely, she can still see his hand trembling infinitesimally. He is restless. The closer she looks at him, the more she feels like there’s something deep and massive simmering within him, itching to burst out, as if he’s finding it harder and harder to suppress it.

Sam… well, Sam is feeling _guilty_ of all things; telling Dean and her that he’s sorry that he gave in to Lucifer, that he brought him here, to Jack and to Mary herself, that he’s sorry for letting them down. Mary almost feels an amazed chuckle burst out of her. Sam’s just come back from the dead, and here he is, feeling all apologetic about the way it happened.

He’s already said sorry to Mary twice – _I know Lucifer must have hurt you, Mom, that night when you hit him and he pulled you into this world. I’m sorry you’re having to face him again, Mom,_ he told her. And she’s so amazed at what her son is – the little baby she used to rock to sleep, now all grown up, oh so caring about others’ feelings. Despite the hell Lucifer has put Sam himself through, he seems more worried about Jack and Mary having to face the archangel… so empathic, so understanding, so kind… but she cannot claim credit for any of it, she knows. She thinks of John, having to take care of two little children all alone. She thinks about Dean’s words saying that he had to be more than just a brother to Sam, be a father and a mother to him. She thinks of all that he said to her that day before he told her that he hated her _and_ he loved her – all that Sam went through, how Dean couldn’t do it, couldn’t keep him safe; and she thinks of all the unsaid things that lay beneath his words – about how much Sam means to Dean, how much he loves his younger brother.

She looks at Dean again. He’s looking at Sam as if he cannot take his eyes off his brother, as if one moment of looking away would make Sam disappear from here. It speaks so much, the look on Dean’s face – all relief and joy and disbelief and lingering shock, the look that tells her that her firstborn would’ve let not just the Devil, but all the demons and hellhounds in all possible universes descend onto this world if it meant he would get Sam back. She’d seen it after all – the look on Dean’s face when he said he was going back to get Sam’s dead body.

She wonders what it says about her as a mother that she didn’t even try to stop Dean… that she already knew nothing – _nothing at all –_ could’ve stopped Dean from going to the vampire-ridden tunnels for his little brother.... There was never going to be one dead brother and one live one coming back if Dean had made the trip to the tunnels, Mary knows that – either Dean would’ve done everything humanly and supernaturally possible to resurrect Sam, or he would’ve let the vampires take him on, and ended up dead and bloody alongside his brother’s corpse.

 _Sam’s corpse_ – merely thinking of the two words makes a shudder run through Mary.

But Sam is here, well and alive. There’s dried blood on his dirty clothes, on his throat, on his face. But he’s alive. That’s all that matters in the end. That they’re alive and together. That she’s finally got both her sons back, another chance at doing right by them, being their mother in the true sense of the term, righting all her wrongs… Oh, they’ve forgiven her long ago, she knows. But she remembers all that she did, and she knows she has to put it all right now, be a family… all of them, the boys, and Jack and Castiel… But for now, she’s glad it’s only Sam and Dean and her here. She has so much to talk to them, so much to catch up on.

“I woke up—” Sam is saying, rambling like he’s been doing for the past five minutes,“—and Lucifer was there, and he was—”

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean roars, so loud that she’s sure others outside their tent have heard them.

“Dean—” Mary begins, but Dean shoots her a look – one he’s never given her before – that shuts her up immediately.

They’re only looking at each other now, her two boys; it is as if she isn’t even here. Dean glaring at Sam, Sam staring back at him, eyes so wide that Mary thinks she can count the flecks of hazel and green and grey in them. He has the most beautiful eyes, her youngest. Nothing like hers or John’s or Dean’s. He doesn’t say much, Sam… but his eyes say everything that his words don’t. And as she looks at them now, staring right back into Dean’s green ones, Mary feels like she’s isn’t meant to witness this, that it’s something only meant for the two of them.

“Do you understand—do you _fucking_ understand what happened!” Dean exclaims – not loud, but his voice is oh so deep that she feels like the very air is crackling with the intensity of his words. “You _died!_ I saw you die— _again—_ and there was nothing I could do to stop it! _Again_! Do you know how I—” Dean’s voice cracks, choking on the lump that’s certainly in his throat.

And then Sam’s covering the distance between Dean and him in one long stride, and Dean is in his arms. Dean isn’t a small man, but when Sam’s large limbs encircle his brother, he seems to engulf Dean within him.

They say nothing, her two boys, they only stand there together – two brothers hugging.

But it looks like something intimate, a private moment that Mary shouldn’t be here to see, for she’s almost certain the sniffle she just heard was from Sam, that Dean’s eyes are as teary as they’d been when she asked him where Sam was, because they both seem to breathe in an eerie tandem, Dean’s hands now fluttering over Sam’s back, over his arms, over his neck, his blood and mud-matted hair, because Dean is now pulling back from Sam, large hands cupping his brother’s face, fingers trailing down Sam’s cheek to his throat, where she knows the vampires tore into his skin. She knows Dean’s gestures are born out of his need to make sure Sam’s unhurt, his innate belief that he is Sam’s protector, his older brother whose duty it is to save Sam from danger, to save him and protect him and care for him.

But _this_ —it suddenly doesn’t seem so brotherly, for Dean’s fingers are still trembling as they move over Sam’s throat, his hands suddenly tugging half his shirt open, Sam gripping Dean tightly by his shoulders as Dean’s hands run over his brother’s chest, fingers fluttering over the dried splotches of blood on Sam’s skin as if he just wants to wipe all the red off, Sam whispering _Dean, Dean, Dean_ like an unending chant, Dean’s hand running oh so gently over Sam’s chest, with a softness she never expected from Dean, with such care, such affection, tracing over the dried blood, making sure Sam isn’t still bleeding, that he isn’t wounded, even as every movement of his fingers looks like he wants to reclaim his brother from the vampire’s fangs, as if he wants to reassure himself that Sam is still here, where he belongs, with Dean… while Sam holds oh so still, as if he knows Dean _needs_ this, to touch Sam, to make sure Sam’s alive and well and _his,_ though she sees how white Sam’s knuckles are where he’s held on to Dean’s shoulders, as if he can’t wait for Dean to finish his perusal of Sam and then clutch his older brother to himself again.

 _This isn’t right,_ Mary thinks, and there is such horror churning in her stomach now, she’s certain she’s going to throw up whatever little she had for her meal last evening. _This isn’t right,_ they’re brothers, they aren’t supposed to be this close, this affectionate, this intimate… _this isn’t right,_ it wasn’t supposed to have been this way. Mary knows her sons are close, that they’ve spent their childhood and most of their adulthood living in each other’s back pockets, that Dean’s been a brother and a friend and a parent all rolled into one for Sam, that they’ve gone to the ends of the world for each other time and again. But they aren’t supposed to do… _this_! She doesn’t even have a word for it, she doesn’t even know what to think of it, she doesn’t know what to say!

 _Stop it!_ she wants to scream, to pull them apart, to tell them to be the brothers they are, not _this,_ whatever this is. But they are in a world of their own, as if they haven’t even realised or remembered that their mother’s right here, watching them, watching her sons like this!

She’s mute with shock, a part of her telling her that she’s overreacting, that they’re just brothers who are extremely close, while another part of her tells her that this isn’t what brothers do, this isn’t how brothers are. But she finds that she’s only backing away from them, her voice dying somewhere in her throat, as Sam’s the one cupping Dean’s face now, making his older brother meet his eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Dean, I’m fine,” Sam’s whispers are oh so soft that Mary almost cannot hear him despite the relative silence in the tent, as if they’re meant only for Dean’s ears, as if every whispered words are caressing his brother like his hands are.

“Don’t you dare die on me again—don’t you _fucking_ dare leave me again—” Dean’s words are strangled as Sam pulls him into a hug again, Dean’s  face resting in the crook of Sam’s neck, both bodies leaning so close together that Mary’s tear-blurred vision makes it seem difficult to see where Sam begins and where Dean ends.

“Remember what you said that day,” Dean’s voice is muffled with how tightly Sam has held him, with how his mouth is oh so close to Sam’s clavicle, lips almost touching the bloody skin, “Remember what you said, Sammy. If we die, we do that together too, Sammy, we do that together too.”

When Dean’s lips trail further down Sam’s neck, resting on his throat where the vampires bit him, with a gentleness yet a desperation that Mary cannot bear to watch, she finds herself slipping out of the tent, legs trembling so hard that she isn’t certain she can stand, while her sons do not even notice her absence as Dean’s mouth traces over Sam’s skin.

 _I had to be more than a brother to him,_ she remembers Dean saying to her in her mind all those months ago. It is only now that she realises just what her sons mean to each other – so much more than just brothers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was never much a fan of reading smut, and I hadn't read a single Slash fic, but I somehow got sucked into the world of Wincest (don't ask! Sam and Dean, and reading a handful of so very well-written fics can do that to me, I guess!)  
> Anyway, my first attempt at a Supernatural fic, which I might end up deleting later. But I just had to post it after watching 'Beat the Devil'. I should probably have written it better, but this is something I typed up in barely half an hour, so I hope you won't be too harsh.  
> Thank you for reading :)


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